The Road Not Taken
by Simplice
Summary: AU. A baby with green eyes and black hair is taken in by the Potters to be sister to James. How did this child come to magically appear? The Dark Lord chose a different path to eliminate the threat, that's how. FemHarry.
1. Servants of the Dark Lord

Authors Note and Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter...I don't really own anything. I admit to having been inspired by many different stories-reading the past, changing the past, living in the past...I hope this one has unique points to offer, but I cannot claim ownership of any character. Further, I fully admit that I am a full-time college student who is rather busy as I graduate in May. Updates will probably be sporadic. To any who has found this story because they have me on Author Alert from Sarutobi no Jinchuuriki...I apologize for the long delay there, life changed, I got busier, and at the moment have no inspiration as the story is nearly complete but for some battles that I am not confident in my ability to write.

**Chapter 1: Servants of the Dark Lord**

_**June 1980**_

Severus Snape, a cloak pulled up over his dark, greasy hair, bowed before the Dark Lord, awaiting his punishment for failure. He had not had a mission to retrieve a prophecy, for nobody could have known it was to be made, yet still…Lord Voldemort did not accept failure. The young Death Eater had spied upon Dumbledore in his final years at Hogwarts, and knew better than to be caught. Yet he had.

The Dark Lord laughed, high and cold, an unnatural sound in the still night air. "A prophecy that a mere child will defeat me? Prophecies are for the weak, who bow before death. Death bows before me: Do not forget that. I find it amusing, to think I could meet my downfall by mere words, don't you?" Lord Voldemort paused, as if waiting for Snape to dare speak up, yet the man continued to bow his head. "I am afraid of no mere child. Why should the greatest wizard of all time fear an infant? Let it not be said that I fear an infant. _Crucio!"_

It felt as if burning knives were being plunged into him, as if his very veins burned. His muscles tensed in spasms and a scream tore itself from Severus' throat. The pain felt as if it went on forever, and then, abruptly stopped. His vision blinking black and white from the pain, Severus could only feel as his left sleeve was pushed up, and then his arm began to burn white-hot again. The Dark Lord had summoned his Death Eaters. Slowly the spy climbed to his feet, apologizing again and again for his failure to retrieve the entirety of the prophecy. As he backed into his place, a deathly whisper greeted the spy's ears: "You will hold your tongue, Severus." Snape bowed again and backed into his place in the circle as the first white-masked wizards apparated with loud, distinctive _Craaaacks_, into being at the meeting place.

"It is time, my faithful few. It is time we told that futile resistance, the filth who deny my right as Lord, and the supremacy of our kind, that they will not be tolerated. It is time to bend the knee. Victory is ours." Lord Voldemort paced around his circle, looking for holes, for weakness, for impurity of commitment. Seemingly finding his Death Eaters' loyalty unquestioned, if only for the moment, he continued, "What shall we do to those who have defied me?"

It was a woman's voice that spoke up: Bellatrix Lestrange. "My lord, we kill them all! All who would defy you should feel pain!" Her deranged laughter, and the laughter of her fellows filled the night sky.

The Dark Lord cast his gaze upon the woman. "Pain is it? Is that what you say?" He swept his gaze, eyes glowing red, face like pale melted wax, with the nose a tiny wax protuberance of two slits, around at his servants. "Pain, but unlike the fleeting pain of the body, so simply repaired. The body is weak, mortal, yet the heart weaker so with their pathetic holds upon others. The Dark Lord knows not the weakness of their hearts; he has never experienced such a weakness. Let us show them their weakness." A slow smile spread over his face, darkly sinister, and cold beyond compare, a smile that instilled fears in his faithful followers. "But, we will not be unmerciful: kill only the infants of those who dare defy us. Let all of the squalling brats born this summer die. Then we shall have victory, and the pathetic resistance will bend knee, and know our superiority."

Severus Snape felt a flash of fear, carefully shut down and trapped within him. His Lily…she wouldn't be hurt, would she? No…just the children were to be harmed, his Lord had said it to be so, and so it would be… He shrugged it off, after a moment. His Lord said that the brats would die, not the mothers. A child of Potter's was no concern of his. His mind carefully skirted around the question of why would the Dark Lord kill all of the children, if he put no faith in prophecy.

XXoXX

_**July 31, 1980**_

Nerves were high at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Several witches had come in pregnant, only to leave with a birth certificate in hand and tears upon their faces. Wizarding children were rarely lost at birth and yet already four had died. The Dark Mark had not been set over the hospital, but was instead over the homes of each family when they returned home. It was unnatural, and people whispered among themselves fearfully. Just yesterday had been the most recent death: Alice and Frank Longbottom had given birth to a stillborn child. At the previous prenatal appointment, just a few days prior, the boy who they had already chosen to call Neville was kicking his mother regularly, a fine picture of health, and already full-term.

After the recent deaths, the Healer who had been in charge of the Longbottoms performed a few scans upon the mother, and found trace elements of a poison in her system; a rare poison, with the faint taste and scent of mint, that would not cause lasting harm to the mother if monitored, but would be fatal to an infant's tiny heart. The healer knew that it took an incredibly talented Potions Master to create the poison, which was designed to speed up the pulse, and strain the cardiovascular system.

Alice Longbottom was still in the hospital, as the last traces of the poison wore out of her system: until it had worked its way through her body, taking a full 48 hours, she needed medical supervision to monitor the possibility of a heart attack. She and her husband had been given a private room on the third floor, as their grief was rather noisier than should be public. Healer Bones shook his head sadly, as he thought of the family he had helped give birth only yesterday. He did not even know when the poor woman had been given the poison—it had to be drunk. She could have been given it at the hospital, as she was in labor, or hours before inducing her contractions to begin.

The hospital feared that, whichever the case, mothers and infants (those were not known sympathizers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) were at risk for death. They had tightened security, but it was difficult. Everybody needed access to the hospital, so the Floo network could not be disconnected, or warded. All they could do was tighten who was allowed to visit in the wards. An auror was on duty, stationed outside of the small first floor "Life Ward," where witches gave birth. (The hospital had deemed this floor the safest for women to give birth in, as the as the Creature-Induced Injuries ward only healed minor injuries, rather than those such as werewolf or poisoned wounds.) Visitors into the ward were being carefully screened—only those invited by the parents were allowed into the ward. Bones worried that this would not be enough, as Death Eaters weren't precisely going to walk up and request entrance, were they?

He hoped the auror would be able to protect Lily and James Potter though. Nodding politely to the auror, —O'Malley—he entered the ward and walked on into the room where Lily Potter was currently fully dilated, according the junior Mediwitch, and ready for his assistance giving birth. The Healer hoped he would not be helping them give birth to another stillborn.

Inside the room he found a redheaded woman, with sweat being carefully tidied by her messy-haired husband. She seemed to be having a reprieve from pain at the moment, though when she contorted her face a moment later, with a low groan, the healer was able to see that her pain seemed well-managed, there but not to an extreme point. It looked promising for the baby to survive the birth, which Healer Bones noted with a tinge of relief. Yesterday had been awful.

Healer Bones smiled as the couple noticed his entrance a moment later, hoping to relieve their anxieties, "I hope you're ready to meet your little girl, I don't think that she'll wait much longer." He cast his mind back on what he recalled of the very young couples' medical record. "She seems rather insistent on being born in July, a week early, isn't she?" And he stayed in the room as the contractions continued well into the afternoon, chuckling to himself as the fiery red-head threatened her husband, that next time she was finding a charm to make him go through labor, rather than her!

XXoXX

Augustus Rookwood was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. He was smart, sneaky, and a fairly powerful wizard. He had contacts in the Ministry and throughout the Wizarding community who kept him up-to-date on the war, and what the heroes were doing to vanquish You-Know-Who. He also, secretly, was an invaluable Death Eater. Oh, the Dark Lord had other faithful servants in the Ministry of Magic, but none other in the Department of Mysteries. No other could obtain information on the prophecy for his Lord, which the Dark Lord had secretly told him about.

"Rookwood," he had said in that chill whisper, "I have been informed a prophecy has been made. Tell me, your Lord wishes to know…" Lord Voldemort had not confided in Rookwood what the prophecy was about, oh no, that was an honor for those greater than he! The Unspeakable consoled himself that he had, at least, been able to inform the snake-like man that many prophecies "died" and turned black, as they were not fulfilled. The future was not set in stone.

Rookwood still remembered the pain he had been given, as a reminder not to speak of the prophecy. As he had lain, fingers twitching in nerve spasms, as his mind tried to comprehend that the pain was over, the Dark Lord had spoken: "The future is ours. Those who are impure, weak, shall become what they are—and we shall cure Wizardkind of the disease."

Those memories were growing faint, a month had come and gone since that conversation, and Rookwood was currently on the task of assuring that all blood-traitor children born were to die. It was toward the end of the day when he heard a rumor, on his way back to his floor from a meeting, that he quickly made his way over to the nearest Floo, the Time Turner he had just collected still in his pocket. He had just heard, from no less than an old friend of the elderly hospital matron, that a little baby had been born to the Potters. He knew his duty, and Augustus Rookwood was nothing, if not diligent in performing his duties for his master.

Arriving at the Floo stations, Rookwood chatted carefully with an acquaintance for a moment, and then excused himself, "I must be going, I heard a friend managed to get on the wrong side of the strangling amulets going around." The man winced in sympathy—the amulets had been causing quite a problem, as they were identical to amulets that truly had a shield charm for minor hexes.

Climbing into the fireplace, Augustus Rookwood eagerly slipped his wand into his hand; the shaft up his arm sleeve so that just the barest tip of the wand was between his fingers—a good method for surreptitiously casting. With his other hand he threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace and clearly told it where to take him, "St. Mungo's."

With the whirling sensation that always accompanied the transportation, the Death Eater found himself at St. Mungo's stepping carefully out of the fireplace.

He carefully made his way over to the first floor wards, and loitered carefully out of sight of the auror until it appeared as if they were the only two near the doors. Swiftly he tilted his arm and pointed his wand. Auror O'Malley never saw it coming, as he had never questioned a Ministry employee being at the hospital, talking casually to a few people. Rookwood was very connected, and knew people everywhere, from Ludo Bagman the famous Wimbourne Wasps beater, to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Bartemius Crouch. It was not surprising that he would visit the hospital and speak with acquaintances, with a war going on—it was something he had been known to do before. "Imperio," whispered the Death Eater.

A glazed look crossed over O'Malley's eyes, and Rookwood slipped his wand further up his sleeve. "O'Malley, what are you doing here," he asked slipping up to the man, keeping eye contact.

The man answered honestly, having no other orders: "There've been some suspicious deaths of infants, I'm keeping watch seeing that only certain people are allowed in."

"Babies? How awful! I can't believe anyone would do such a thing. I certainly hope Lily and James' kid is okay?" The auror answered in the affirmative. "Tell me where they are, I'm their friend and I need to go see them. I want to see the little one."

The glazed-over eyes didn't even blink at the order. "Healer came out with a big ol' grin—baby's doin' just fine. The junior mediwitch is supposed to be looking after her, doing some scans, while the parents sleep. Long day for them."

"Yes, yes, very long. Well, I'll be quick then, right back out in a few minutes. Let me in."

And as easily as that, the auror failed in his duty, and let the Death Eater in to kill the Potter baby. Rookwood walked through the door confidently, and headed straight to the room where he knew the mediwitches checked up on newborns, a room with small puffing gold scales, and clean warm blankets and towels, and small little baths.

Glancing through the small window in the door he saw that the mediwitch was in the room. That wouldn't do, not at all. Augustus Rookwood carefully pointed his wand, still hidden up his sleeve, at an abandoned food cart. With a clash the glass plates bounced off the cart and onto the floor. Quickly slipping behind the door as it opened, and the Mediwitch rushed out to see what the commotion was he slipped around her and into the room. That should have bought him a few moments, as the nurse would clean things up.

And yet as he slipped into the room, he heard another voice call out from the hall, "Jane don't worry about that, go on home. Your shift is just finishing anyways. I'll clean this up and go on in."

"Really, are you sure Susan? … You know what, no; I can't have you do that. You go see the charmer in there; I'll fix this up and be on the way. I think if I have to deal with anymore crying today, after how yesterday went, I'll just scream." The door clicked shut, snapping off further sound.

Fools rush in without plans, and Augustus Rookwood had been a fool this day. Normally he was smooth, sneaky, and deliberate, but he had not anticipated the changing of shifts, and had not spent the moments planning this murder out carefully—the Potter child had not been due yet, after all, and security had only just been tightened.

It turned out that Augustus Rookwood would not have any time at all with the baby. He hurriedly reached into his pocket with his left hand to grab the poison vial he had been keeping there for some weeks. The Death Eater was nervous—he knew that he could not be caught, as his position was essential to the Dark Lord. Realizing that he was out of time, and out of luck as the doorknob squeaked, Augustus Rookwood swiftly disillusioned himself as a final few strains of conversation made it to his ears, and he quickly withdrew his hand from his pocket to wait for a chance to kill the baby. Perhaps Susan would check on the baby and slip back out...He would bide his time—O'Malley wouldn't betray his presence, certainly not after he Obliviated him.

And in that moment as he turned, disillusioned, withdrawing his free hand from his pocket with his mind racing for a new plan, he stumbled on the hem of his chameleon robes, and from his pocket something fell and smashed over the child. Bright green eyes opened and a wail rose up from the healthy lungs of the newborn with downy black hair. The wail was abruptly cut off as the sands from the Time Turner touched the child, and got into eyes and mouth.

For a single moment, Augustus Rookwood's heart stopped in fear. What if…? No, the sands from the Time Turner would do the job as well as any poison. Adults, who touched the sand with even a tiny portion of their body, had that portion go from adult to infant and back again, forever. There was no cure for an individual who touched the time sands. The child was covered in sand. Lord Voldemort would be angry, for the death would not be as subtle, a silent testimony to the power of the Dark Lord, and the fate of all those who denied his power. But he had done his task, he just needed to leave, and go to the Potter home to set the Dark Mark into the sky.

As the Mediwitch hurried in to see to the squalling brat, Rookwood carefully stood still against a wall, his body matching the substance behind him perfectly, as if he were not there. The witch was too focused on the child to note the slight difference in depth. And then…the infant stopped screaming, and the Mediwitch started to scream.

No infant had ever touched the sand before—Augustus Rookwood could not have known what would happen. If he had known, perhaps he would have spent the moments returning the Time Turner to the Department of Mysteries. Or perhaps he might have planned the murder of the Potter child better. He had not, and could not have predicted what just happened to leave the tiny bassinet empty.


	2. Mysteries

**Chapter 2: Mysteries**

**July 31, 1963**

Harald Potter was generally very appreciative of his shift at St. Mungo's being at fairly reasonable hours for a family man, although his old bones wished that the hours weren't so early. This morning, however, he was cursing his luck: he was the Chief Mediwizard in Charge of the 5-1 shift and was on-call this week for the night hours, while anything before then went to the head of the 1-10 shift. The hours in between had a skeleton staff with experienced Healers, but nobody in charge of the hospital. Only rarely did the Chief Mediwizard have to go in at night, or do anything more than take a Floo call on the weekend. Harald was never particularly thrilled to get a call in the middle of the night.

At 11:01 an Apprentice Mediwitch had realized she had too many babies in the ward, by one. And so, Harald had been woken up by the ringing alarm attached to his Floo, for when the hospital called. The Mediwitch had immediately gone to the Head of the floor, and a few minutes had been spent trying to straighten it out, before they had called him. Just moments after ending the Floo call Harald was dashing back to the room where he and his wife, Charisse, slept.

"Harald? What time is it? What's going on," the bleary woman asked.

Turning his eyes upon his wife, a mother of a young child, though already much older than her peers and in the first phase of lumbago, Harald gave a loving smile, before walking over and kissing her on the forehead. "Baby showed up mysteriously in the hospital—there's no reason of course. Right in the middle of the maternity ward and not a soul noticed. Nobody could get into the ward to drop off a baby unless they work there, chances are somebody would have seen. Not a lot of wizarding babies born a day you know…I have to go in and find out about this little girl. Quite a puzzle"

"Oh a baby! If only we could have another, though…I can't imagine another tyke like James." The woman hesitated, then asked, "Will you be back?" Charisse knew her husband well, and knew that he would not leave until the situation was cared for: a baby could not be left defenseless in the world.

"I'll try to make it for a quick breakfast, before going back in," the 68 year old man told his wife in a muffled voice, as he pulled on his robes.

"Do let me know will you?"

"Yes of course dear," the man intoned as he cast one last look upon his wife and hurried out of the bedroom, and toward the fireplace that was in the living room, just down the stairs.

At 11:20 at night on July 31st, a man climbed out of the green flames of the Floo into St. Mungo's hospital. The man was of average height, with messy black hair going gray, and tired brown eyes. Straightening himself up, he looked around, and immediately headed toward the first floor ward where he knew he would find the younger wizard who served as Head of the Floor.

"Ah, there you are Potter. This here is the mediwitch who noticed the extra baby in the ward. We've not been able to track down any missing baby within the hospital."

Mr. Potter nodded calmly, turning to look at the young witch, "Madame Spicer, I believe? Could you please take me to see the child?" The woman nodded, as Harald turned his attention to the other man, "It was good see you Jack, if you could meet me in my office in 15? I'd like to discuss this with you further."

The Head of the Floor, Jack Abbot, nodded. "I'll just check up on the Creature Induced Injuries real fast, fellow came in with a bad injury off of a bog-standard chicken. Why people try to get eggs from them I'll never know…"

As Abbot walked off into the ward, the young Mediwitch turned to her boss' boss. "This way if you please. I found the little girl well into my shift. I work swing from 8 pm to 5 am, and she's such a quiet thing, not a peep out of her for who knows how long, until I was feeding Roger Atkins, the little premature on the ward, and she let out a wail wanting a bottle too! Well naturally I looked around to see if a baby had somehow got put into a bassinet without a name attached, but no, all of the others were filled, and she was only wrapped up in a blanket as if she hadn't even gone through the measurements and been given an identification bracelet yet. We're really not sure how she got here," the woman exclaimed as she slipped into the room where the mysterious baby had shown up. Two other infants were in the room, one two weeks old and in for a flu, and Roger who had just been born on the morning of the 29th and needed monitoring for a couple days as he was a few weeks early.

Harald walked over and looked down into the bassinet, and felt unease stir within his chest. The little girl had downy black hair, and the pinkish skin of a newborn. She also reminded him of his own James when he had first been born, although even then he had been a rowdy little boy. "And you've no idea who could have brought her in?"

The women shook her head vigorously. "Oh no sir, you see the mediwitch on the last shift told me that it had been a really quiet night. Little Simone's father and big brother had been in, and left her that teddy bear, not that the poor dear even knows it, sick as she is. That was 5 pm, and afterwards she moved Simone back to the far corner of the room, so the two littles wouldn't get each other sick or disturb sleep. Nobody else came or went after, not or her shift or on mine."

"Do you think that she might have missed the baby having been there before your shift?"

"I'm not completely sure Mr. Potter. I should think it's not likely—we walk around the room enough, and babies need feeding often enough that I just can't imagine that little girl having been there that long without anybody knowing. No I feel sure that the little one can't have been here quite so early as that. She must have shown up on my watch…But I'd swear to you that I didn't see anybody come in!" The blonde mediwitch frowned, looking at the small girl. "I do feel bad that I didn't notice her earlier…didn't notice somebody just leave the poor thing here…Oh, I wonder how they did it.."

Harald Potter leaned over and clapped the woman gently on the shoulder. "Sounds just like magic, doesn't it? Don't worry, Madame Spicer, between Jack and I we'll get this sorted out. I think I'll check with Dumbledore—Hogwarts always knows when a witch or wizard is born, maybe the parents named the girl before leaving her here…though I do wonder how they got in."

The man looked down and saw the little girl yawn a little. With a small grin he reached down with a finger a gently tapped her chin, and the little girl closed her mouth and opened bright green eyes for just a second, before closing them, almost reproachfully. He chuckled, "Looks like a little Slytherin there, green eyes and already giving me a bad time," he joked. "Well, I'll leave her to your care for now Healer."

And with a nod, Harald Potter slipped out of the ward, and headed for his office, where he found Jack Abbot waiting inside. "Strangest thing, nurse is pretty sure nobody left the baby that she saw, yet the baby couldn't have already been there. And I have to say I'd agree—Healer on the last shift could hardly have not paid attention to a baby for that long, short of a Notice-Me-Not charm."

The other man agreed with him. "I've been thinking we ought to keep this quiet. Seems to me like if somebody left this child here they probably don't want to be found, and the child is better off getting care…"

"You might be right Jack, but I was thinking we'd check in with Dumbledore, see if he has a name for us…You know him better than I do, that's why I wanted you here."

Jack Abbot nodded. As a muggleborn wizard who had only graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago, Dumbledore had been his Headmaster but had taught Transfiguration in his first and second years before his predecessor had retired. "Probably a good plan. Now's as good a time as any—I swear that man never sleeps, I just hope he's at Hogwarts. I'm not real sure what he gets up to during the summer."

Luckily for the two men, Dumbledore was indeed in his office, a bright orange sleephat hanging over his red-and-gray hair. His eyes weren't twinkling quite as much as usual underneath his sickle-moon glasses, as he looked at the two heads sticking out of his fireplace. "Ah, Jack Abbot, Mr. Potter, what I can do for St. Mungo's this evening?"

Jack spoke up, "Sorry to bother you Albus, I know it's late. We just ran into something here that we were hoping you'd be able to help us with." Harald slipped in, "A Healer informs us that a baby showed up in the ward this evening, she's not quite sure when but she is sure that she didn't see anybody leave a child there, and there's no child we can figure it out to be. We were wondering if you wouldn't happen to know if Hogwarts knew…? I remember you knew right away when James was born that he was magic and would be accepted into Hogwarts…"

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Most unusual. Let me just get that list…should be somewhere in that infernal book." The man turned his back to his twin-headed fire, and looked around. "I can never quite find it when I think I ought to need it…ah, nevermind," he said, as the book floated through the air to him. "It, at least, knows when I would like it and answers to my call on occasion."

Neither men commented at the man's phrases, knowing full well that he had, in fact, summoned the book. Flipping through pages, Dumbledore found the page for the class that would enter Hogwarts in 1974. "hmm… we have a Blue, a Fischer…ah here, July birthdays..an Atkins…no that's a young wizard….hmmm…" He snapped the book closed. "I do indeed have record of a little girl born today, but not so much as the last name is listed. That is rather unusual, as the book is charmed to tell lineage as per the last name of the child through blood detection charms. Perhaps I could tell more if I were to meet the child…?"

Harald and Jack exchanged glances. Blood detection charms hadn't worked, and the baby had seemingly been abandoned on the very day of her birth? No…somebody had gone to great lengths to remain unknown. Harald sighed, "It's rare but…witches sometimes choose not to keep their child…It happens every decade or so but, I've never known a case where the witch went to such lengths to hide her identity. Normally they just walk in and shove the baby into somebody's arms, crying a little. No, there's no point in trying to find the parents."

XXoXX

When a week later Charisse met her husband at the hospital at the end of his shift, and blood adopted the child nobody was surprised. The Potters had tried to start a family for years, having always wanted a large brood of children, but had never managed more than James. And here was a little girl needing a home, who had charmed Harald quite quickly when he went in to check on her in those first days.

The adoption ceremony was simple. Jack Abbot, as Healer who eventually had written out the birth certificate for the child, stood as witness. A dusty potion was pulled off of the shelf of the supply room, and a drop of blood from each parent added to it. Then the potion was carefully tipped down the baby girl's throat.

Jack Abbot, Dumbledore and Healer Spicer were among the few who knew that Charisse, who rarely left her home, had not given birth to the child. The fact would be on Ministry records, but those records were not public knowledge, and in fact few in the Ministry even bothered to look when a certificate of birth was sent in from St. Mungo's—they just looked at the last name, and put it into the correct Family Registry.

Charisse, an elderly woman of 56—old to be a new mother, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, smiled tenderly down at the infant, as Jack and Harald wrote on the papers. "What did the two of you decide to name her," Jack asked, as he got to that portion of the form.

"Diara Emerald, our little green-eyed gift," the witch said with a smile.

And a few moments later the new parents and their witness had signed the form, and a pompous Ministry owl was collecting the form in an envelope and winging off with it. Jack clapped his hands together, "Well that's all done. Can't believe some witch just abandoned their baby like that, but you two will be great parents to her. How's little James going to take having a new sister?"

Harald growled, with a mildly annoyed look on his face, "He'll behave around her, or else I'll take away his toy broomstick!" With a sigh, toward the overly energetic behavior of his son, Harald continued, "When we asked him if he'd like a baby sister he didn't say a whole lot, but he didn't say no. And well, he's three; he may not even remember that she's adopted. He did ask if he could name her Finn, after his favorite Quidditch player."

The adults laughed together, and Charisse Potter invited Abbot over for dinner one night soon. And life went on. For a time the family forgot to wonder who Diara's birth parents were. James and Diara got along well, him not being able to deal with it when she cried encouraging him to be on his best behavior for his little sister. The two children were doted upon.

Charisse and Harald were forced to renew their curiosity as to the parentage of their youngest child when she learned how to speak however. There was no doubt about it: Diara was a distinctly odd child.


	3. Oddness

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I JK Rowling, a publisher, or any such agency or person. … And I don't get paid for publishing on-time so, sorry…**

**September 1, 1971**

Charisse and Harald were going spare. Their oldest child, James was to leave from King's Cross station later today to Hogwarts for the very first time. The house was in utter disarray. Harald was lecturing his son, attempting to convince him not to bring so many practical joke supplies to school.

"But Dad! You let me buy them, what did you think I was going to do with them? Leave them here where they aren't any use?"

"I only let you buy them because arguing wasn't worth the headache! You will unpack them this instant…"

"But Dad…" whined James. At 11 years old, he had messy dark brown hair, and brown eyes hidden behind glasses. He had acquired the slim figure of his mother, rather than his father's broad shoulders. Who he had inherited the mischief-gene from was, however, a complete mystery.

Meanwhile Charisse was fumbling through the freshly folded laundry making sure that she hadn't allowed James to skip packing anything necessary, like undergarments. Lord knows when she'd last allowed James to pack for himself for a camping trip, in the back acres of their home in the countryside of Wales, he'd forgotten undergarments, flashlight, and the tent. He had only taken a snack and a change of clothes. He'd been back within half an hour, and that just wouldn't do for school.

With the small stack of laundry in her arms, Charisse ran through the kitchen where her husband was losing the argument with their son. The trunk was still sitting on the floor, fully stuffed with Fizzing Whizbees, Exploding Quills and Color-Changing Sweets. Bending down, she reached to remove the offending items and place the clothing in their place, when Diara interrupted her.

Diara, now 8, with messy black hair, and bright green eyes circled by golden-rimmed glasses sat at the table eating the tail end of her oatmeal. "Don't bother removing those Mum. He'll find a way to get more within a month. Although…he'll just blow up his own essays with the Exploding Quills. Professor Alehard won't be very pleased."

Charisse looked at her daughter, who had an uncanny ability to predict things. Seeing the look in her daughter's eyes, she sighed and didn't bother removing any of the items. When Diara had first learned to speak at two and a half, she had begun to say the oddest things. "Dad home!" she smiled when he came home from work every day, but one day she had said it half an hour early, before his shift had ended, let alone before the Floo sounded. Yet…he had arrived just moments later. That was the first time her oddness had been revealed.

At four she had cried "Don't go, don't go! Bad dog, bad dog," and clung to her brother's leg. James hadn't listened to her, and went outside to play. That day he had played with a Muggle child and teased a dog that had then chased him, snarling. It was only thanks to Harald going to check on James, because of Diara's insistent crying, that Harald had been able to prevent James from being bitten.

The events had begun to pile up from there. On her fifth birthday she said she didn't have to unwrap her birthday gifts, because she already knew what they were. She would set the table with an extra setting when Abbott showed up for dinner, unexpectedly. Only a few months before she had insisted on setting a bag by the fireplace filled Charisse's clothes—that night her mom had gone to bed with a very bad headache, and woken up during the night very sick. Her lumbago had gotten bad enough that all of her joints were swollen up, and painful to move, and an illness had set in because the lumbago had also compromised her immunity.

Now it was accepted within the family that Diara was a seer. Harald and James stopped arguing upon Diara's prophecy, James with a smirk. "HA! Thanks Sis," James crowed and hurriedly moved to lock up his case before anyone could change his or her minds. Diara just shrugged her shoulders with a small smile.

Soon enough the family was loaded up and ready to drive off in the truck, a rickety old thing that was useful since a Muggle community had grown larger in the nearby community, and a family living off the beaten track with no vehicle was noteworthy. The Potter family was little spoke of in the nearby town, but known of. James had certainly made his mark, tearing around town like a little hooligan at times. The town thought both Harald and Charisse to be retired, and raising their grandchildren. They had never once guessed that little Diara, who they rarely saw, was adopted, nor that the two adults in the home were in fact parents to the children. The town was effectively snowballed.

James was nearly late for his train by the time they had parked, gotten a trolley and pushed James' trunk toward Platform 9 3/4s. James was looking around, every ounce the excited boy about leaving his family. Harald wasn't having any such behavior from his son. "Now look here James. Behave, okay? I don't want letters home, other than those written by you? Got it?"

"Yes Dad; don't get in so much trouble they write letters home. Got it," James nodded solemnly, knowing his parents were pushovers. They yelled, and they tried to stop him. They occasionally even grounded him. For one day. The only thing he ever got in trouble for, serious trouble for, was messing with Diara too much. The day he had put worms in her bed, when she was four, he'd gotten in so much trouble…

Charisse gave her son a dirty look, and then softened as a tear dribbled from the corner of her eye. "Oh! Harald! Our little boy is all grown up going off to school…." And she gave her son a great big hug, while he struggled to get away. Harald pulled his wife back, gently, and she pulled herself together. "Have a good year at school, then…write lots."

As James turned to go, Diara tapped his shoulder. "Don't tell the marauders about my secret." His face assumed a general confused look, and Diara chuckled at him.

"Which secret? You being a know-it-all? And who are the marauders?"

Harald and Charisse gave James a dirty look and moved to lecture him, about calling his sister mean things. But Diara, all of eight years old, just pouted for a minute. "No, toe-rag, about me being you know-adopted," she whispered.

The siblings had learned the truth one day when Charisse was putting photos of James and Diara into a photo album. James and Diara, playing with paints (Diara making a rainbow, James painting his arms with tiger stripes) had been sitting at the table next to her as she worked. One photo had caught James' attention, short as it was. "Wow, you were really fat!" Charisse had given her son a dirty look, and explained that women who were pregnant, as she had been with James in her stomach, looked like that. James had laughed and laughed, and eventually Diara had told him that the picture must have been of him in Mum's belly, because it could have only been his big head making their mum that fat. In the end, Charisse had told them the truth, when the children had asked where the pictures of Diara were. Knowing that Diara was adopted had changed little in their relationship—only now James was serious when he would say that perhaps she had been left by the faeries.

James promised his sister that he wouldn't even think to tell anyone that she was adopted—it didn't matter to him at all (of course he moaned that she wouldn't tell him who the marauders were). As he loaded himself onto the train, Harald turned to his daughter, "Toe-rag?" he murmured.

"It'll be his nickname pretty soon. I'd say in about ten minutes. He might as well get used to it," Diara quipped.

"You'd better just be glad your mother didn't hear that." Rules were pretty lax around the Potter home, with few punishments being meted out (thus James got away with murder). But the one solid rule was for James and Diara to be nice to each other. Sibling arguing was normal but…Charisse got angry when they fought too much.

Taking the hands of both parents Diara grinned. "Can I pick the paper we wrap his socks in? He hasn't remembered a single pair."

Her parents stopped and turned to her. "Why didn't you so earlier?"

"Because I like the paper that I send his socks to him in," she replied, as if the paper were already chosen. She had, after all, Seen James receiving a parcel by owl the next morning, filled with socks. The parcel had been wrapped in teddy bear gift-wrap.


	4. Interlude: James

Interlude: James

At eleven-years-old James had rarely spent much time away from home, but he had long dreamed of Hogwarts and making friends there. Oh, Diara was well enough, and visiting with Frank Longbottom wasn't bad, but he couldn't help but wish for someone to pull pranks with. Frank, two years his senior, was rather serious and James didn't like visiting him very much (except to hear about Hogwarts) because Frank's mum was (if James were to admit it, which he avoided at all costs rather than damage his bravado) very scary. That stuffed vulture hat of hers … James couldn't help but think that if he made Mrs. Longbottom angry, that he would soon find himself adorning one of her hats.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled away from Platform nine-and-three-quarters, James felt a twinge of anxiety at being away from home. He had been excited about Hogwarts, packing pranking materials, and barely saying goodbye to his family, and now he realized what it was like to be alone. But, James reminded himself; he was alone with a whole school of new prank victims.

Gathering his determination James began to seek out an empty compartment. Seeing one with only a single black-haired boy in it, James knocked on the door and slid it open. The boy didn't look much older than himself, if at all, but even sitting James could tell that the other boy was taller than he. Momentarily James wondered if he were short, or if this were a second-year. "Can I sit here," James asked the other boy with a grin.

A grin lit up the other boys face, and James couldn't help but let out a short laugh as he toted in his trunk, thankfully lightened by his father with a charm. "I'm a first year, James Potter—Master of pranks, and you are?"

"Sirius Black, first year, and, according to my mother, constantly in trouble." Grinning the two boys knew they'd get along quite well.

XX00XX

The two new friends stood in line waiting to be sorted. In the antechamber, as the ghosts had floated by neither boy had been too surprised, though they hadn't seen a ghost before. What was scarier for them was thinking about what the sorting would entail. A blonde girl had been saying that her elder brother had told her that they were sorted by height. Another boy had butted in that no, that couldn't be; because his brother had told him that they had to perform a spell to be sorted into their houses.

Sirius and James had looked at each other, and thought that neither was very likely. But standing there in line, as McGonagall put down a stool and a ratty old sorcerer's hat down in the center of the beautiful Great Hall (overcast, with dulled stars that night), James noticed that his new friend looked preoccupied.

Now, normally James wasn't the most observant of boys, but Sirius had come right out and said that he didn't want to go into Slytherin like the rest of his family had over the course of many years. And so, James knew what was bothering his friend as they stood in line. What he didn't know was how to relieve his friend's fears.

"I hope we're in Gryffindor together! Well, I'd be happy with anywhere but Slytherin you know, I just can't imagine fitting in there..and just imagine…I bet that slimy, greasy guy we saw earlier is going in there. Oooh and I bet that redhead's a Ravenclaw. Bossy like know-it-all couldn't possibly by a Gryffindor…I mean, look at us! We're brave! We're…well..I don't know. But we're not slimy! We'll be okay…I reckon. Dunno where my sister'll go when the time comes…she's a little different, but us? I bet we're Gryffindor."

Sirius looked over at his new friend, talking in that low voice, "Sister? I've a little brother…Slytherin if I ever saw one…"

"Yeah, Diara is…well, she's an odd one. You'll see, when she gets here..she's younger too…," James broke off as a noise rang across the room—singing. Having not been paying attention, James and Sirius both looked around, catching a glare from McGonagall for talking, and finally located the source of the singing: the hat McGonagall had placed on the stool in front of the line.

Ages ago, for my tale to start

Were four wizards soon to part

Those stalwarts, the founders four

Set out to teach their lore

To teach their magic

First a castle of stone and brick

But who to teach they must choose

Thus began a debate none would lose

Slytherin wished to teach only the cunning

Hufflepuff sought out those most enduring

Ravenclaw desired to teach the studious

Gryffindor wished to teach the courageous

Between the Founders tensions arose

My duty, to divide fourfold, they chose

And so for a time all was well

Until discord, into the peace fell

Slytherin and Gryffindor those best of friends

Feuded over their students without ends

Until one day Slytherin could bear no more and left

To this day, of balance Hogwarts is bereft

Be you strong and brave

Or intelligence do you crave,

Be you sly and wily

Or devoted and kindly

Each of you I must sort

Sirius and James glanced at each other and grinned; they had not realized a talking hat would sort them. Perhaps, they had hope after all? Of being in the same House? As they grinned, McGonagall read aloud the first name to be sorted. The two boys watched carefully as Louis Applegate walked forward, looked around, and at McGonagall's encouragement, put the hat onto his head. Nothing happened for a moment, and then—"Hufflepuff!" shouted out the hat, and off the boy went, hurrying over to the table that was clapping loudest.

And so it went—they did not have long to wait. "Black, Sirius," was called without much of a wait (4 other A's went before him, and a single B). James and never felt like waiting took so long ever before, except for that night when his mum had gone into St. Mungo's with an infection—her lumbago, which in it's mild form just caused stiffness, soreness and joints that wouldn't bend well, had gotten worse enough to lower her immune system and she'd gotten an infection. Yet, wait was what he had to do, as the hat sat there on Sirius' head. He was beginning to think he'd scream of frustration, when finally the hat called out, "Gryffindor!" and James let out a whoop of joy and jumped up and down in line—the only first-year to do so.

Sirius grinned at his friend, who had had his fingers crossed hopefully, as he strode over to the Gryffindor table and selected a seat with an empty spot or two near him.

James watched the other students be sorted, noting that the red-head (Lily Evans) who he had met earlier and had been so sure was a Ravenclaw, was in fact a Gryffindor. He paid special attention to those who became Gryffindor, feeling pretty confident that he himself would be as well. Other Gryffindor were a boy named Remus Lupin (who looked a little mousy and shabby, a girl named Kestrel Lewis, a girl named Jennifer Morgan, and a Stacey McGreggor.

Then the P's finally came around. Morag Parkinson became a Slytherin; Ike Peterson became a Ravenclaw and Peter Pettigrew (a small boy, smaller even than James who had to admit that he was on the short side). Peter Pettigrew's sorting had taken a particularly long time, the longest yet in fact, until the hat had finally settled on Gryffindor. Whatever else the boy was, bravery was part of it.

Then came the name he had been waiting for. "Potter, James!" and James almost ran forward, eager to get the waiting over with. (If there was one thing James couldn't stand, it was waiting. He liked pranks that went off immediately, and he disliked anxious awaiting something that he couldn't control.) With a small grin, only half-nervous, James settled the hat down onto his head. And instantly a voice, which he recognized as belonging to the Sorting Hat, spoke into his mind. "Hmm….cunning aren't you?"

James paled a bit..cunning? Wasn't that a descriptor of Slytherins? The Hat couldn't…could it? But no, the Hat continued, "Foolish bravery outweighs that cunning, fierce loyalty…you Potters…always Gryffindor or Hufflepuff…but, for you, GRIFFINDOR!" yelled out the hat.

James felt a moment of relief, as he set down the Sorting Hat, and hurried over to where Sirius was sitting, along with Kestrel and Jennifer. Now that he'd been sorted, James' first priority was food, and so as the sorting continued (Severus Snape going into Slytherin after only a moment of thought by the Sorting Hat) he didn't pay a lot of attention.

XX00XX

The following morning Remus and Peter woke up to slippery floors next to their bed. Remus caught himself before he went flying across the room, but Peter slipped and fell, landing in his open trunk, knocking it over, and a pair of white boxer-briefs landing on his face.

Remus merely looked over at the two other Gryffindor boys, who had been laughing as soon as Peter and Remus had woken up. "In the future, adding soap makes it slipperier. And laughing before the prank happens gives it away."

James grinned and ruffled his hair, and Sirius gave Peter a hand up. "That's a good idea, what to help us plan pranks?" James asked Remus.

The friendship, between the only four Gryffindor boys in the First Year, began from there.


	5. Diagon Alley

Summer 1974

For Diara the last three years had gone slowly. With James off at Hogwarts she had lost her only companion around the house. Unlike James she had never fit in with the Muggle neighbors, as her uncanny way of saying things and knowing things would happen had made her stand out. It was risky for her to spend too much time with Muggles, for Statute of Secrecy reasons. It was also dangerous for Diara to be unsupervised for other reasons. For the past years, while her father had been at work it had just been Diara and her mom at home. Over the years the amount of time Harald Potter had spent at work had slowly increased.

A wizard named Voldemort had begun recruiting wizards to follow him. He had caused a stir in pureblood society according to Diara's parents: he was supporting pureblood ideals of magic is might and the inferiority of muggleborns and Muggles, which the Potters hadn't agreed with for some time. There were those who agreed with the Dark wizard, however, and events in the world were slowly becoming more violent. At first it was just political unrest, but in the past year the number of disappearances and even a few suspicious deaths had occurred. All of those deaths had been people who had spoken against Voldemort. Thus, Harald had begun getting called into the hospital during his on-call shifts more often, leaving his wife to raise his daughter more and more.

Charise, after having parented a child like James, knew that she needed to keep Diara entertained during those long years at home without a friend, entertained and supervised. To that end she had spent quite a few hours each day teaching Diara her arithmetic, and reading and writing. Some of the material was from Muggle schoolbooks, which Charise thought would be good for Diara to know. Occasionally the small family had taken trips into Muggle London for shopping and to play in parks where any oddities would be less easily traced back to the Potter family. Those trips had become less frequent during James' third year at school, as Voldemort gained power.

Summers were always a happy time for Diara, even if trips to the park and Diagon Alley were rare. She was happy to have her brother home with her. James would tell her stories of Hogwarts and his pranks. One of her favorites for him to tell was a prank from second year. He and his three friends had cast charms onto the benches in the Great Hall, to make them weak, so as soon as a couple people had sat on them at dinner, they'd broken. Everyone in the Great Hall had ended up on their butts with food on their face. A few students had then started a food fight before the professors had gotten the situation in hand. James said his friend Sirius had begun laughing so hysterically that he'd gotten the foursome of Peter, James, Remus and he into trouble. At that point inn telling the story James had scowled and said that someday Sirius was going to laugh too soon and ruin the prank.

This summer, however, was different. Instead of one owl arriving at the Potter home two had just flown in through the open window, shortly after breakfast. A large barn owl flew to James and gave him his letter detailing needed supplies for his fourth year. The other owl flew toward Diara with a much thicker envelope. Diara grinned as she read her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, quickly passing off the letter to her parents, as she reached for the supply list. Although she had known the letters were coming today, having announced it to her family the previous morning (after which James had promptly rushed to the Floo and invited his friends to meet him in the alley the next morning), Diara didn't know what supplies she would need. Even seers don't know everything, after all.

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

_**UNIFORM**_

_**First-year students will require:**_

_**1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)**_

_**2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear**_

_**3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)**_

_**4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)**_

_**Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags**_

_**COURSE BOOKS**_

_**All students should have a copy of each of the following:**_

_**The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk**_

_**A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot**_

_**Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling**_

_**A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch**_

_**Common Magical Plants by Gladiola Bloom**_

_**Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger**_

_**A Magical Universe by Gemini Thatcher**_

_**The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble**_

_**OTHER EQUIPMENT**_

_**1 wand**_

_**1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)**_

_**1 set of glass or crystal phials**_

_**1 telescope set**_

_**1 brass scales**_

_**1 beginner brewer's box**_

_**Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad**_

_**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**_

James glanced over at his sister's letter. "Huh, I never did figure out why they have to tell you that you need a wand…I mean, it's magic! Of course you need a wand. Not even Dumbledore can do much without one! And why bother with the hat; you only wear it at the opening feast…"

Harald scowled over at his son. "You're supposed to wear that to class young man. In my day we wore them to every meal and to all of our classes."

"Yes, but father, times change. Speaking of which…the clock hand is still moving and I want to get to get to Diagon Alley so can you please not start that argument you've got in your mind?" Harald glanced down at his daughter, her long unruly hair waving about her thin shoulders as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, clearly eager to get her first wand.

Mr. Potter sighed and looked down at his daughter. "Go get dressed and help your mother get ready. She's just slipped upstairs." With a grin at her father and brother, Diara dashed off up the stairs and to her mother's room. Charise had just gotten over another illness, caused by the weakening of her immune system due to her lumbago. The small girl wished that her mother wouldn't get sick again, or that they could finally find a cure for lumbago, but didn't feel optimistic on that score. As lumbago progressed it stiffed the joints, and weakened the immune system. Worse it created a resistance to healing spells, and there was no cure for it. Not even magic could cure all diseases, another of which was lycanthropy.

Knocking on the door, Diara smiled as she entered and saw her mother slowly pulling clothes out of her wardrobe. "Hi Mum, dad said to help you get ready to go to Diagon Alley." The elderly woman looked across the room at her daughter, and nodded.

"I knew we'd be going this morning, so I'm just about set. I'm proud of you honey, all grown up and eleven years old now!" Pulling a red dress out of the wardrobe Charise showed it to her daughter. "How about this today, dear? Will you fetch me my matching shoes and a pair of socks?" As Diara leaned under her parents' bed to grab her mother's shoes, Mrs. Potter continued her conversation with her daughter. "We'll have to get you a pet as a celebration."

Diara put a pair of comfortable black loafers in front of her mother and looked up with a grin. "Yeah?" Her mother chuckled and nodded. "Now go get dressed, and brush that hair! Really, you and your brother, people will think I never bought you a comb!"

XX00XX

It was less than half an hour later that the family was ready to go. Diara had dutifully brushed her hair and put it into a ponytail, while James had thrown on a pair of jeans and a plaid button-up shirt, completely ignoring his hair. Harald just chuckled as he grabbed the pot of Floo powder off of the mantle, while Charise tried to tame James' hair. As soon as the boy could he had grabbed a pinch he escaped his mother's grasp. "That boy," Charise muttered as she grabbed a pinch of Floo powder with one hand, and hobbled into the fireplace using her cane, before she too was gone with a cry of "Diagon Alley."

Diara threw her own pinch into the fireplace with her eyes screwed shut behind her glasses and made sure to speak as she breathed out, lest she inhale in smoke. The only form of Wizard transportation that Diara had ever enjoyed was the broom. Side-Along Apparition, the few times she'd done it with her father, made her feel like she was being squeezed. Portkeys gave her stomach butterflies, and was by far the worst. Yet, Diara still could not keep her footing as she landed in a Diagon Alley fireplace, and stumbled out. Knowing her father would be right behind her, the girl jumped up and ran over to her brother and mother. Immediately James started laughing at his sister.

"What?" she demanded grumpily of him, but he kept laughing. "Oh dear, I suppose I shouldn't have bothered with having you do your hair, dear." Sure enough, Diara reached a hand up to her hair and found that it had fallen out of the hairband and gone wild once again. Diara glared at her brother and mouthed that he'd get it later for laughing, as their father arrived through the Floo.

James, however, had no patience for waiting for Harald. "Hey! There is he is! Sirius, over here," he waved, and a black-haired boy looked up, grinned and jogged over. "I'm real glad you could make it the same day this year! How'd you manage that?"

Sirius shrugged one shoulder, his long hair just brushing his shoulder. "Toed the line for a few days, didn't get grounded. The ol'…er, mother didn't mind if I came alone since I wasn't grounded." He turned away from his friend with a wink, promising James he'd tell the full story later. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Potter."

With a glance at his son, Harald had James jumping to make proper introductions. They couldn't stop his pranks, but he at least knew his manners. "Mom, Dad this is my friend Sirius Black, Sirius, meet Harald and Charise Potter. Oh, and Diara, my little sister."

Sirius grinned at the family. "Nice to meet you, officially."

Harald looked over Sirius and nodded. "Well how about you two go get your supplies? You have your money already, right James?"

As James nodded Charise looked concerned. "Surely one of us should go with them…?" She caught her husband's eye, and frowned for a moment, then sighed. "Oh alright, I suppose it's safe enough today. We can split up after getting new robes though. You must at least purchase new uniforms before you run off James, or else I fear to know how much of your supply money you'll spend on childish pranks."

As the family walked toward Madam Malkins' shop, Diara slipped up next to the two boys, who had their heads bent together as they walked. "You know the prank you're planning for the Sorting is going to get you a detention and miss out on the feast." Sirius turned to her with an innocent look on his face, while James looked horrified. "Miss out on the feast," he asked at the same time as Sirius denied ever doing anything which would earn them detention.

As James words registered in his mind, Sirius turned to James. "Why did you tell her? What happened to our policy of denial until it goes off?"

"Mate, I told you she knows the future. If she says it, she normally is serious."

"Don't worry Black, I won't rat on you. Enough rats around as is, don't you think," she asked with a sly smile, as she slipped into Madam Malkins in front of the boys.

After the boys ran off on their own, the first stop for the family was Ollivander's. Diara, after all, needed a wand in order to perform most of the magic taught at Hogwarts. Walking in the door she found Ollivander to already have a customer, a tall girl with long blonde hair who was trying to keep a straight face as a measuring tape floated in front of her face, measuring the space between her nostrils. An old man with crazy white hair, who vaguely reminded Diara of pictures of Einstein she'd seen in a Muggle book, nodded and shuffled off into the back of the store. The blonde turned around, as the door shut with a tinkle of the bell and Diara trooped in with her parents.

"Are you a witch too," the girl asked.

"Yeah, everybody here is. Well, parents of muggleborn witches can be here too I guess. And hags and goblins can be in the Alley as well…"

"Oh neat! Anyways, I'm Courtney. And according to Mr. Hagrid … well my parents are Muggles I guess. They're over at the pub with Mr. Hagrid grabbing something to drink while I get my wand. Isn't it exciting?"

Diara grinned at the girl, and nodded, as Ollivander brought a wand out for Courtney to try. The girl promptly caught the counter on fire, which Ollivander put out pretty quickly. "Whoops," Courtney said as Ollivander took the wand away and inspected his shelves of wands.

Diara was normally fairly good at being patient, a result of knowing the future. However, waiting for her wand was not something that she found bearable at all. When Courtney finally found a wand that suited her, bendy willow with unicorn hair, Diara felt relieved and offered a grin at the girl as she handed over the gold. "See you at Hogwarts Courtney," she called as the other girl trooped out.

Harald patted his daughter on the shoulder and shoved her up to the counter, as Ollivander looked her over. "Another Potter eh? I hadn't realized young James had a sister…" His brow furrowed for a moment and then he shrugged. "Well, first wand young…?"

"Ollivander, this is our daughter Diara, off for Hogwarts this fall," Charise introduced. Ollivander looked over at the woman and smiled. "Yes, how well I remember, I had only just taken over the shop from my father when you got your wand. Oak and unicorn, firm. And Mr. Potter, oak and, hippogriff hair, a rather unusual core as few hippogriffs are willing to give hairs. And a hippogriff core must be given willingly…" The old man turned back to the young girl. "Well, let's see what your daughter favors eh? Or rather, what favors your daughter?"

As Ollivander used his tape to measure her, Diara piped up. "Sir, I think you should try me on ash wands." Ollivander stopped his measurements and looked at the girl with a curious eye. "You are the first eleven-year-old who has suggested a wand type for me, particularly a type that is not common to your family. Perhaps we shall try a few first, and move to ash if the reactions aren't good."

As Harald and Charise shared a look that said they were slightly amused that a man who always tried to be spooky, as Ollivander had a reputation to be, did not believe their daughter. Ollivander first tried wands of oak and mahogany, before frowning and grabbing three boxes containing wands of ash. "Ash and unicorn, 10 inches," he said and gave her the wand. Diara grinned and reached out to grab the wand, only for it to roll out of her grasp. Ollivander chuckled, "Most definitely not."

The second wand of ash was also filled with a unicorn hair, but was 11 inches. It allowed Diara to hold it, but emitted no sparks, no explosion, no rainbows, nor anything at all. She frowned, as did Ollivander. "Unicorn does not seem to be a match at all, does it?" Ignoring the third box he'd previously pulled out, Ollivander disappeared into the back of his store before pulling out a very dusty box, complete with a small spider scuttling off of it. "Ash and phoenix feather, nine inches." As Diara reached out to take the wand, from the small velvet pad on which it had rested in the box, it started humming, and making the candlelight in Ollivander's dusty old shop flicker.

"Finally," muttered Charise, leaning on her cane, behind her daughter. "Yes, yes, good show," Ollivander declared as he dusted off the box and put it with the other boxes whose merchandise had sold during the day. "A very interesting wand that. Most phoenixes give a single feather from their tail when they allow me to collect, or a feather that molts off. This phoenix, years ago when I was still young and making my first wands, gave me a single golden wing feather quite a bit before burning day as he was still quite handsome. I'd long given up on finding homes for some of my less common wands. Treat it well," the man said as he collected money from Harald.

The family hurried out of the shop, none of them being fond of breathing in dust. Shortly later they'd gathered the necessary textbooks and supplies for potions, Diara had glanced covetously at the latest broom in Quality Quidditch Supplies where they'd bumped into the boys. Following lunch of sandwiches and ice cream at Florean Fortesques Diara had dragged the boys with her (protesting all the way as James didn't like to be bossed around by someone three years younger than he) to Eeylops Owl Emporium. Contrary to the name the shop sold toads, cats, and rats as well. As the Potter family already had an owl and the school many more beyond that, Diara ended up walking out of the store with a small grey and white striped kitten with bright green eyes on her shoulder. The cat had caught her attention when it appeared to her to be laughing at Sirius and James' antics. Sirius had instantly called the cat a fiend. Sirius was still moaning about Diara choosing that cat for her pet when he and James said their goodbyes and made promises to see each other on the train.


	6. Hogwart's Express

Diara woke with a start as a yowl filled the room, claws dug into her legs painfully and a large weight crashing onto her mattress (complete with a Cloud Soft charm). There was no mistaking the cause, even in Diara's groggy sleep-deprived mind: "Gerroff James, gerroff!" the girl hollered at her older brother.

A laugh, then a sharp hiss of pain came from James. "Stupid bloody cat! Merlin, you just had to listen to Sirius? Fiend, really? Argh." As Diara put her circular gold framed glasses onto her nose she saw her brother sucking a scratched finger, courtesy of her kitten. Fiend had shown to be very smart. Diara had, of course, known the kitten was magical—most Wizards' pets were (even if only given longer lives or color-changing fur) either through charms or cross-breeding with magical animals. Diara didn't doubt her new friend was capable of anything.

"Ugh, anyways, up!" Today's the day," the boy called as he clambered off of his sister's bed and slipped out of her bedroom. Today, today was the day Diara started at Hogwarts! This was very exciting for the young witch as she had little contact with others her age, due to living on the outskirts of a Welsh Muggle Village. Yes, there were a few other Wizarding families around in the nearby Godric's Hollow but none had children Diara's age. Her parents' age was part of the reason she had few friends: Harald and Charise had given birth to James, and then adopted Diara late in life. Most Wizards married and started families young but the Potters had not conceived a child for many years. Of the Potter's acquaintances, only Augusta Longbottom, (James' friend Frank's mum) also had her child late in life—yet even she was in actuality the younger sister of Mrs. Potter's friend Madrigal who had long ago married a foreign wizard.

Diara, with her justifiable excitement, jumped up and ran to the armoire pulling out a nicer outfit she'd set out for the day when she'd packed for Hogwarts two days before. On went the green-and-yellow plaid shirtdress, and a pair of yellow socks. A brush went through her hair, and, even as she tossed the brush into the top of her open trunk her messy shoulder length hair sprang back into disarray curling out whichever way it chose at the ends, and struggling against the barrette Diara fondly placed into her hair.

Diara and her family had spent one last day together at a Quidditch match only the day before. The match had been between the Chudley Cannons and the Wimbourne Wasps. The family had cheered for the Wasps, and when a beater for the Wasps had been knocked unconscious a reserve player by the name of Ludo Bagman had come out onto the field and been absolutely fantastic. Yet even his performance hadn't tempted Diara to select a different souvenir—the snitch barrette that fluttered its wings as if hovering, had called to the girl.

Ready to go downstairs at last, Snitch fluttering madly in her hair, the girl turned to Fiend. Instead of asking her cat if she wished to accompany her to breakfast she found that the kitten had curled up on Diara's pillow. "At least you get your sleep," the girl yawned as she bounced out of the room.

The Hogwarts Express glistened through the steam, that made Platform 9 ¾ seem like it was in a whole other world from the rest of King's Cross. Diara, who had seen the Station many times before, was nevertheless more excited than ever to see the train. Her hazel-flecked bright green eyes looked around excitedly as Charise despaired over James' hair, and moaning about the swarm of letters home she was sure to receive, as was Mrs. Potter's tradition.

"Now you be sure to keep out of trouble Diara! And do mind your brother…" Mr. Potter looked at his wife as she fretted, and shook his head. "Diara has a good head on her shoulder, but even so James is three years older than her—she can't manage that Charise. She may not even be in Gryffindor with James. Just make sure you study hard honey, and write home lots. And James—do keep an eye out for her, help her settle in."

James looked as his father and saluted cheekily. "Sure thing Pops!" Diara glared at her brother as he smirked at her. "I'll be sure to watch the little tyke!" With a huff (and a frown on Mrs. Potter's face as her two children sniped at each other) Diara turned away from the boy who'd woken her up. "Mum, not even Dumbledore stops the Marauders, I'm sure that I can't manage that."

Mrs. Potter looked between her two children, as did her husband with a resigned look. It was Mrs. Potter who dared to find out, however, "Marauders…? James is that…" But what Mrs. Potter was going to ask James cleverly managed to avoid, as his glower at Diara faded in to a grin and he promptly pulled away from his family, calling out, "Hey mate!" A family of four was slipping through the crowd and had gotten his attention.

The Potters turned around. Harald bending down to whisper in his daughter's ear: "And so we meet Mr. Black's parents. Walburga and Adalbert Black. They're not people your mother and I would regularly socialize with, but as Sirius is a friend…" Straightening, Harald nodded gravely as his wife addressed the woman who she had met several times years before. "Morning Walburga, I've missed seeing you the last few years, but James has told me a lot of your son Sirius," she smiled at the Slytherin.

"Mmm, yes, the son who spends time with blood traitors…and this is our other son, Regulus," answered Adalbert as Walburga fingered her wand and cast a scathing look upon the family. The Black family, Diara noticed was of two sons—Sirius charmingly handsome with thick glossy black hair tidily ending just below his ears, a good complexion, and bright excited eyes. Regulus, who appeared to be a year or two older than her was smaller, and built on much slighter lines than his brother, although he also had black hair. He had a haughty look on his sallow face, and dispirited grey eyes. Adalbert looked stern and unforgiving—Diara knew him to be involved in anti-vampire legislation, thanks to an article in the Daily Prophet. He had also appeared in the newspaper in support of Voldemort's politics. Walburga, who had refused so far to speak, looked cruel. Diara couldn't look at the woman without wanting to shudder. Perhaps that impression was due to having received letters from James in the past years, commenting on Sirius receiving Howlers full of Dark profanities. Diara did not envy Sirius for where he grew up.

As her eyes lit on the younger boy (who she absently thought was scrawny, though who was she to complain as she was much smaller still) her vision fizzled away from the present for a moment, looking at the boy, and several facts flitted into her mind, one of them concerning the family in front of her. Within a moment she had shook her head and cleared her mind and vision. Yet only Sirius still stood before the Potter's, happily chatting with Mr. Potter and James. Mrs. Potter's spare hand (the other rested on a cane) was resting on her daughter's shoulder. "You drifted off for a moment…"

"It's nothing mum. Don't worry," Diara smiled. It troubled her, but Diara couldn't change what the Wizarding world already guessed: times were getting Darker. "Oh look, Remus and Peter are here, just in time too!"

Diara offered Mrs. Pettigrew a smile as she pushed Peter's luggage up—at fourteen the boy was still small and chubby, and not very strong. Remus too pushed his trunk up, though he was not with his father. "Hello Remus, are you excited for the sweets trolley? And you Mrs. Pettigrew, how are you doing today?"

Remus grinned at the thought of the train's sweets, and then looked curiously at Diara, before glancing at James who smirked at him. "How did you know who was who?" Remus asked as the elder Potters engaged in conversation with Mrs. Pettigrew, a middle-aged woman whose muggle husband had divorced her when Peter was small. James and Sirius chuckled and then laughed riotously at their friend's reaction to Diara.

Diara calmly grinned and reached down to pet Fiend, who had poked a head up over the edge of the cauldron she'd set him in. "Oh I see you quite clearly, you go gray young, and Peter," she said the as to the mousy-brown haired boy, "I'd stop pulling my hair if I were you. " Sirius had ceased laughing and glared at the cat when it had poked his head up, and looked at him with bright eyes. James had laughed all the harder, choking out, "She named him Fiend you know," he said causing the other black-haired boy to yelp. Soon Remus and Peter joined in the laughter as James explained the name.

A few moments later Mrs. Pettigrew turned to her son, to say her goodbyes and Diara and James found their parents next to them again. After hugs, and a few more admonitions about behavior Diara found herself standing on the train, her father having lifted the luggage up after her with a simple charm, and searching for an open compartment. She had soon discovered one occupied only by the girl she'd met at Ollivander's. "Hi Courtney, how do you like the Wizarding World so far? Oh! I'm sorry, I'm Diara Potter, I didn't get to introduce myself when we were getting our wands."

The blonde, whose hair was again in pigtails, grinned, "Oh yeah! I remember you. Were those your grandparents that day?"

"Nah, those were my parents. I've got an older brother too. He's around her somewhere—just look for messy hair like mine," Diara laughed.

"A brother? What's he like? I can't wait to meet everyone. I've always known I was different and now I get to meet other people like me!"

"Oh well, don't trust James or his friend Sirius. They're real pranksters, and if you're friends with me you'll be a target. But I've a secret weapon…." Diara winked and proceeded to inform her new friend how she handled her brother.


	7. Sorting

Diara and Courtney stood in line next to a girl named Isadora Marshbank, and behind a boy named Nigel Patil, all of them wearing their new Hogwart's robes. Diara's bright yellow socks twinkled from underneath her robes when she walked. The robes had been something of contemplation during their journey as Courtney had wanted to figure out how they stayed closed with only the one button. Deciding that the robes were held closed by a charm had led to a lively conversation of using magic itself as the fabric and a foolish emperor, leaving the girls in stitches of laughter.

Yet now the ride was over and the girls stood in line to be sorted. The boy next to them, Nigel had been friendly enough when they'd met him and Topher Perkins on the train, the two laughing along about the unfortunate clothing choice of the emperor in question. Isadora, on the other hand, who they had also met, had been difficult to get along with. She and Fiend had not gotten along well, and the other girl had been adamant about blood superiority, been snooty to Courtney and indicated that Diara was odd in a very unfortunate way. Diara's temper was rapidly fraying with the girl—punching her on the nose was very appealing. That thought ran through her mind as Professor Slughorn, the Deputy Headmaster, placed a ragged hat on a stool. The hat seemed to gape open at a rip in the brim, and then it began to issue forth a song, to the surprise of the First years.

When the school was still new

A divide between Founders grew

Proud slippery Slytherin

Felt cunning deserved merit

And firm gutsy Gryffindor

Sought out the brave

Honest hardworking Hufflepuff

Believed in all

and ready-minded Ravenclaw

valued quick-wit

The four Founders each

Only preferred traits to teach

Between the houses four my task is you to divide

From unity the four houses are pried

This split between houses serves you not

For apart you are pushed and brought

Into disaster and divorce

And mights of cruel force

Hogwarts stand together now!

A shocked pause fell across the room, and then the student body belatedly broke out in clapping for the song, though there was also some laughter interspersed with the applause. There were some who clearly didn't think that the future the Hat painted was plausible. As the laughter and clapping died into fading echoes, Slughorn returned to the stool with a long scroll in his hand and began to call out the names of the first years.

Diara and Courtney traded nervous glances. The two had become fast friends and did not want to be separated. And what was that the hat said about separation and enmity? A chill fingered within Diara's soul: the Hat too believed that Dark times were coming. Yet the warning fell on deaf ears.

That thought was pushed aside, as the names of her fellow classmates captured Diara's attention and she listened to the flow of names and yelled affiliation. First was "Atkins, Roger" who was rapidly sorted into Ravenclaw. Roger was a boy with curly blonde hair that, like Potter hair, didn't seem tame. The hat slipped onto the head, and was held up by the hair, a moment passed and then the whole school knew that Roger valued book-learning. On and on the list went; Stuart Barber, Samantha Bloom and Sierra Blue were next and each was sorted into Hufflepuff. Diara thought that they seemed friendly and gave them a little wave as they headed toward their new table. Dexter Boon became a Slytherin and then Hope Cobbler and Samuel Chang became Ravenclaws. Baxter Coote became a Hufflepuff as did Marigold Dunleavy and Star Evans. Another boy was sorted into Slytherin—Vincent Crabbe, a chubby boy who nevertheless had a handsome face. It was at about the time of Vincent's sorting that Courtney leaned over to whisper to Diara, still standing together in line. "I'm coming up soon…and no Griffindors yet…what if there are none this year?"

Diara glanced at the hat, and then at her new friend. "Don't worry Courtney. You'll be the first." Courtney gave Diara a quizzical look, but then it was time for her name to be called and there was no more room for whispered conversations. As Professor Slughorn called out Courtney's name she trotted forward and plopped the hat down over her blonde hair, pushing it into her eyes giving her a vaguely Cousin It appearance. Sure enough, after a minute's deliberation, the hat called out "GRIFFINDOR" at the top of its lungs, and Courtney jumped up, shot a smile at Diara and hurried over to her new table—to large amounts of clapping. Among the cheerful noise none could be heard louder than a quartet of students—a handsome dark-haired boy who was howling wolf-like, a gawky boy with messy hair cheering out a few lyrics a Griffindor fight song, a sandy-haired boy who was tapping silverware together in a sort of mock drum, and a fourth small chubby boy chanting after the others. Courtney veered over to sit in an empty spot near those boys—after what her friend had said, she strongly suspected that one of those boys was Diara's brother.  
Diara smiled at her friend, but had to hold back a groan at where Courtney chose to sit. She didn't need to see the future to know that the future was going to be chaotic. The seer continued to wait, with a growing degree of impatience as she was forced to stand next to Isadora. She just hoped that the sortings didn't take too long and that she wasn't stuck with the Marshbanks girl for the next seven years. For all she was a seer—sometimes Diara could only hope, because she didn't know the sorting results much at all. She only knew her own, and those of a few people who repeatedly had been shown to belong to her future—although she didn't know their names, only faces.

After Courtney a couple girls were sorted into Ravenclaw: short Xiao Mei Fong, and plump and brunette Flora Fortesque. Rufio Garner was sorted into Slytherin—Diara thought that he looked proud and stubborn even from a distance. And then, finally, Courtney wasn't the only new Griffindor; Arnold Harkass joined the Griffindors with a big grin on his face, followed by a rosy-cheeked Grimelda Harper. Benjamin Heinz was sorted into Slytherin, along with Isadora Marshbank (to Diara's relief—no seven years spent sharing a room with her! Diara did a bit of a happy dance, bouncing on the balls of her feet, to be rid of the girl!). Claudia Johnson, Jessica Miller, Nigel Patil, Topher Perkins and Elijah Little were sorted into Hufflepuff—that house was rapidly filling and Diara briefly wondered how Hogwarts accommodated fluctuating numbers of students in each year.

Aleshia Payne was sorted into Slytherin, and immediately sat down talking with Isadora. Diara wrinkled her nose—and then reached her hands up and straightened her glasses. It was almost her turn to go forward. Octavius Pepper joined Shield Merrythought, the most recent Griffindor sorted at the table, and Diara started walking forward even before Deputy Headmaster Slughorn called for her. He observed her walking for a moment, eyes lingering on his hair, and then chuckled, calling out "POTTER, DIARA." When the school realized that somehow the first-year who had walked forward before her turn, realized that it was in fact her turn, there were whispers and a few strains of laughter across the room.

Diara let the hat settle upon her head, and a voice sounded quietly. Somehow Diara knew that she was the only one who could hear this voice, just as she hadn't heard the hat talking quietly to each of the students before her. "Hmm, interesting, interesting. Cunning. Oh yes, you're a sneaky one to trick your brother, aren't you Potter? Loyal as well, and determined. But that doesn't really define you. And intelligent, but …not for knowledge's sake itself, no…Ahhh yes, and courage, courage to change what you know but others can only dream of…Hmm, what is that you say?"

"We both know where I'm going. May I join my House now?" Diara was tempted to smirk slightly, one side of her mouth turning up in a grin, as the hat broke out in laughter inside her head. "Oh aye, we both know where you're meant to belong: GRIFFINDOR!" A happy grin on her face, and the cheers of her brothers friends and the first years in her ears, Diara bounced over to her seat, knocked her knuckles on James' head, and sat down between Courtney and Grimelda.  
The next person, Terry Puddifoot, to be called forth by Slughorn also became a Griffindor, as did Gawain Robards and Nancy Robins. Janus Pye, brothers Aaron and Adam (who were clearly not twins, identical twins at least) Savage, Kenny Ward, and identical twins Leo and Loki Urqhart all joined Ravenclaw. Sirius sputtered something unintelligent about the 'Claws getting all the sibling sets this year. Diara had laughed when Remus had countered, "Must be in the blood—too bad there's nothing useful in yours—just pranks!" It seemed that all of the Hufflepuff students had already been sorted into their houses, as the other students all went into Slytherin; Adrian Raicher, Barbie Summers, Simone Trimble, Glenda Twilfitt, and Mercedes Vane.

As Professor Slughorn put away the stool and hat, a man stood up at the head table, only a few streaks of red remaining in his silver hair. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. For now, let us listen to the growling of our bellies and assuage the beast within. Then we can listen with our ears—after we eat!" With that the tall old man clapped and food appeared in golden platters on the table. Diara and the other students around her dove into the food. Once her plate was full with a slice of quiche, a bit of a meat pie, and a collection of roasted and boiled seasoned vegetables and potatoes, Diara got to know her fellow students as she ate.

Courtney, whom she'd already met, was a Muggleborn witch who'd grown up in Surrey. She had a good sense of humor and had always been interested in stories of magic, and was very excited about all things Hogwarts. Terry was a Pureblood witch; already Diara was learning that there wasn't much sense to be made from her. Bold yes, brainy no. Nancy was a halfblood, her father having been a wizard, but her parents had divorced when she was a child. She seemed to be fairly intelligent, and found Diara to be very interesting study; Diara wasn't sure how she felt about her 'mystery' pulling this girl toward her. Grimelda blushed easily, but glared and was feisty. "Arnie" seemed to enjoy teasing Grimelda in particular, but then, the boy clearly was another in the tune of the Marauders. Gawain and "Merry" seemed to already know each other and were in serious talk about whether they could organize a scavenger hunt across the school on the weekends. Octavius was listening in on that conversation, and suggested that they try to learn their way around the school as they do so. Listening to the various conversations around her, Diara knew that she had a good home in Hogwarts. Courtney was to be one of her good friends, and Grimelda another (though she knew Courtney and Grimelda were likely to argue a lot). Gawain and Merry would be great friends as well.

All in all, Diara felt optimistic about the upcoming year.


End file.
